


Little White Lies & Secrets (or How to Cause Chaos in the Hargreeves Family Within 24 Hours)

by Glass_O_Lemonade



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miscommunication, Non-Chronological, POV Multiple, Past Drug Addiction, Post-Season/Series 02, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26073808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glass_O_Lemonade/pseuds/Glass_O_Lemonade
Summary: "What are you going to do?""About?""The black eye? And everything else," Ben gives a general gesture his way. There was a lot more than just the black eye. "They're going to ask."Klaus hums, contemplating. "You punched me?""Because?""Because? Ben, I'm me. I'm sure our siblings can fill in the missing pieces on their own."CHAPTER THREE IS DONE & POSTED IN IT'S ENTIRETY! HAPPY HALLOWEEN, READERS! 10/31/20
Relationships: Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz, Raymond Chestnut/Allison Hargreeves, Sissy Cooper/Vanya Hargreeves
Comments: 83
Kudos: 315





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [siriuspiggyback](https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriuspiggyback/gifts).



> This one's for the discord. Love you supportive fools. <3
> 
> Now. To sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will edit this later. Until then, here's the result of writing instead of sleeping.

There's a knife inside him. _There's a knife inside him._ At least the room's finally silent. Eerily silent. Ben glances down, and yes, the knife's still there. The end of the hilt pokes out of his shirt.

This was not how today was supposed to go. Not. At. All. Unfortunately, his family's only stunned still for the briefest of moments. Before he can say _anything_ , the room erupts into chaos once more.

"Diego!"

"What the hell?!"

"Idiot!"

"Shit!"

"Ben, are you okay?!"

"I didn't know he was there! I didn't know you were there! Shit!"

"Everyone shut up!"

He turns to Klaus, who's deliberately _not_ looking at him. "Well?!" Ben narrows his gaze at Klaus and gestures to the knife inside him. "Oh, fine," Klaus casually waves a hand, lifting his other to likely rub out a forming headache, one Ben has no sympathy for. With a quick glow of ghostly blue, Ben dematerializes, and the knife clangs to the floor.

_What a freaking mess._

* * *

**24 Hours Earlier - 1:00 AM**

Tonight he's in one of the academy's empty bedrooms. On the rare chance things go south, he's less likely to run the risk of waking anyone up this far from their bedrooms. Though, he hopes tonight will end with him screaming in glee and not in frustration (or worse). Gene Pitney softly sings from one of the room's corners. Ben leans against the wall before him, arms crossed, mentally judging him. Well, to be fair, Klaus suspects that last one.

"You should try to sleep," he suggests, for the third or so time.

"And I will," Klaus assures as he crosses his legs. " _After_ , I try this."

"You _tried this_ four times this week. And all of last week. You're starting to get bags under your eyes."

"Starting?" Klaus can't help the small smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips.

"You know what I mean," Ben half huffs. "They're getting worse."

Klaus rolls his shoulders back, forwards, back. "What else can I do, Ben? I can't exactly fly to wherever he is." A beat passes before his words dawn on both of them. A plane! He could fly to- Why hadn't he thought of this already?

"Do you think that'll work?" Ben asks, considering.

Klaus shrugs, already excited by the possibility. "What could it hurt?"

"Hmm..."

"How 'bout this?" Klaus starts. "If this doesn't work, we talk to Allison tomorrow about booking a flight."

Ben gives a slow nod, before asking, "Why Allison?"

"She has the most flight points."

* * *

**1:25 AM**

Ben left about five minutes into Klaus' summoning attempt, and to Klaus' disappointment, Ben seems to have been right. Again.

Despite his family's various presumptions, Klaus didn't exactly learn _everything_ about his powers in the 60's as much as he merely unlocked (and maintained) a steady stream of energy between him and Ben. On the rare occasion, he could silence or banish a spirit, but he's yet to do either of those things consistently on command. Bit difficult to do something when you don't know how you did it in the first place.

"Come on, Klaus." He sets his shoulders, shuts his eyes, and tries again. He's not giving up after twenty minutes. Even if he doesn't find him tonight, Dave deserves more than twenty minutes of Klaus' time. What's a little lost sleep? Well, Ben would argue Klaus has lost more than a little sleep, but Ben isn't here right now, was he?

He keeps his eyes closed, clenches his hands into fists. His arms rest on his legs. A passerby may mistake his position for meditation. Klaus feels as the power within him charges forward. It starts in his palms, then expands to surround his hands. Gene Pitney continues to play as the blue spreads up his arms.

_David Joseph Katz. David Joseph Katz._

"Come on, Dave," Klaus whispers aloud.

He doesn't need to open his eyes to know he's no longer alone in the room. Being a medium since birth comes with it's own peculiarities. For example, how the hair on his neck, arms, and legs always raise, like static electricity, when a ghost is near him. His own personal ghost alert system. You know, for when the screams and/or bloody transparency doesn't tip him off first.

Klaus doesn't stop once he feels the start of goosebumps forming. After all, something must be working if he's brought someone forward.

Despite the energy and concentration it demands from him, Klaus' power is cool to the touch. Which is a weird statement in itself, as it isn't necessarily tangible. It isn't cold, but it isn't room temperature either. Don't ask him how he knows any of this. He'd say he just does. And wouldn't Five just love that snarky response?

Time passes from seconds to minutes as he sits in self-imposed darkness. The static-y feeling doesn't leave his limbs. His power creeps up to his shoulders, then down his chest, up his neck. What did they have for dinner yesterday? Was there still a glass of water in his bedroom? Damn, he should have brought that here with him. Huh. He's never gone this far before, he notes as cool blue covers his chin. A dull pounding starts to form in the corner of his mind. Eh, he'd sleep it off later.

_David Joseph Katz. Dave. I'm here, Dave._

"Please."

Eventually, his mind grows quiet. Weirdly, the music sounds distorted, as if he were under water. He can feel a faint, steady thrum from his charged power.

The sound of someone approaching has him greeting Ben before he's even opened his eyes. He should have opened his eyes.

A bony hand is suddenly on his shoulder, and Klaus jolts out of his trance. His eyes fly open. He wishes he'd kept them closed. He wishes Ben hadn't left.

There's a ghost before him, _a solid ghost._ Klaus jerks back, attempts to shake the man's hand off him, but then he takes in the room at large. The man's not alone. _Klaus isn't alone._

Searching for a clear path of escape, he realizes his arms are still surrounded in blue, but by then it's already too late to shut his power off.

_Shit!_

As two more corpses approach him, their own hands reaching to claw his flesh, the man in front of him lowers his jaw and _wails._

* * *

**2:11 AM**

Usually, Ben likes being right. _This_ is not one of those times.

Klaus doesn't even glance towards the mirror as he enters the bathroom. He hasn't stopped shivering; Ben suspects it's an involuntary reaction.

Ben scans the small room for the fourth time. _Good_. He looks over his shoulder, and the hall's thankfully empty of death, too. He's re-scanning the bathroom before he can stop himself. So he _may_ be on high alert. Can you blame him?

Ben shifts his eyes back to Klaus, attempts to tally his injuries. On one hand, his brother's had worse. A lot worse. Even worse encounters with the deceased. However, this wasn't supposed to happen. Not while he was trying to summon Dave. And even though Klaus isn't in the worst of conditions, the condition he is in still isn't a pretty sight. Ben still doesn't fully know what happened, but he'll save his queries for later.

Klaus hasn't been plagued by _those monsters_ for a while now, Ben thinks. One of the good things to have happened during their stay in the '60's.

Ben stands guard by the door, his own thoughts occupying half his attention. The other half he directs towards watching Klaus. His brother fills the tub (with hot water, notes Ben). Eventually, Klaus shuts it off, and then steps into the water. He sinks in. The pained features in his expression slowly melt away as the heat warms him. His skin reddens, the slightest of burns, but Klaus welcomes the heat.

"You have a black eye," Ben observes aloud.

Klaus turns to his brother. "I hadn't noticed."

Ben wants to ask after the screamers, the wailers, those soulless ghouls that attacked him, but he knows Klaus won't offer a straight answer this soon after it. Instead, he voices a different question. "What are you going to do?"

"About?"

"The black eye? And everything else," Ben gives a general gesture his way. There was a lot more than just the black eye. "They're going to ask."

Klaus hums, contemplating. "You punched me?"

"Because?"

"Because? Ben, I'm _me._ I'm sure our siblings can fill in the missing pieces on their own."

"Klaus," Ben can't help the slight frown as he replies, "I seriously doubt you want them to think you relapsed."

His brother mumbles something at that. Ben's frown deepens. "Klaus?"

His brother sighs, then repeats himself clearer. "Better a relapse than _that_ mess of a summoning."

* * *

**5:06 AM**

In the moment, Klaus thinks the lie is better than the others he ran by Ben while soaking in the tub. Granted, the lie's an impulse on his part. He never even thought of it until right when he was asked after his face. And yet, the lie he casually supplies is still better than admitting to _Five_ of all people that he got punched and scratched and kicked ~~and scared~~ by ghosts. (Okay, one ghost bit him, but Klaus wasn't counting that creeper.) Not to mention, this saves him from claiming a relapse, which _also_ saves him from the receiving end of Five's acerbic concern.

In the moment, Klaus doesn't stop to consider _how_ Five may receive his explanation. After all, they both know their family. They both know the realities of living with powers, of training those powers. He genuinely thinks nothing of the little white lie he gives Five.

"Ben and I trained with Vanya last night," he says with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "I'd like to tell you I gave as good as I got, but alas, it was another KO."

Klaus doesn't notice how Five's eyes minutely narrow at his words. Even worse? Ben misses this, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vague explanations of the changes made in Season 2 for this 'verse to exist will come. For now, let's just roll with it.


	2. Chapter 2

**8:02 AM**

She wakes to cool sheets on her warm skin.

She wakes to the sight of a lightening bedroom as sunlight peeks through the curtains.

She wakes to the drifting smells of coffee brewing and breakfast.

She wakes to the distinct clang of dishes. (She suspects Sissy's either loading or emptying the dishwasher.)

As with most mornings now, Vanya wakes up and takes a moment to marvel at her life.

Nearly two months have passed since their arrival in 2019.

After that first night back in the academy (after the apocalypse, after the 60's, after everything in between), Vanya realized she'd need a bigger apartment. _They_ would need a larger apartment; Sissy, Harlan, and her. Thankfully, it didn't take longer than a week to locate a new place for the three of them. Someone Diego knew from Al's was in the process of moving, too; the place was a two bedroom, two bathroom on the third floor. To Vanya's relief, the rent fell under her projected budget. (To Five’s relief, there were locks on the windows.) It was even slightly closer to the subway than her previous building. After they toured it, with Harlan present, too, their decision was an easy one: _Yes._

Luther, Five, and Diego helped them move. The day before, Allison and Ray visited the nearest mall with Sissy and Harlan, as three of the four were new to the future and owned only what they had brought in their suitcases.

Vanya blinks a few times, attempts to convince herself to throw off the sheets and comforter, but she feels too comfortable to do so. She doesn't have to start her day _just_ yet. Minutes pass, and then a door opens and closes somewhere else in the apartment. _Harlan's bedroom_ , she thinks. Vanya checks the alarm clock to the left of her. _Well, may as well join them,_ she decides.

When she enters the kitchen, Sissy's already set the table with two mugs of coffee, a cup of orange juice, three sets of silverware, and three plates, each with a biscuit, some bacon, and scrambled eggs. Harlan rubs sleep out of his eyes as he looks Vanya's way. Vanya smiles at him as she pulls out her chair. "This looks delicious, Sissy. When did you get up?"

Sissy shuts the empty dishwasher. "Quarter before Seven. I couldn't get back to sleep." She joins them and takes no time in reaching across the table to interlock her fingers with Vanya's. It's a small thing, two hands seeking each other out, but it means so much to Vanya, and she knows it means more to Sissy.

 _Where_ they met? _When_ they met? They couldn't do this. They couldn't hold hands, couldn't share a bed, an apartment, a family... Romance, intimacy, family? Those weren't in the cards for them there or then. At least, not openly. But here? Now? Here they weren't 'ill,' they weren't 'deviant,' they weren't 'evil' nor 'sinners.' Here they could be themselves, _together_. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Vanya recalls the day they visited the apartment. The leasing office staff welcomed them without question, without insult. As complete strangers accepted them without a second thought, Sissy hesitantly stepped closer to Vanya. Vanya knows of dozens of moments like that, dozens of examples of Sissy's resilience and love and courage, in the faces of time travel, change, fear, the unknown. Yet, these private moments, here in their home together with Harlan, are precious in their own unique way, too. Mornings like these are mornings Sissy never thought she could ever have. Mornings like these are mornings Vanya never knew she wanted. Before they met, neither woman knew she could ask for more from her life. Now, neither could see their lives any different. Neither _wanted_ to see their lives differently.

They let go as Harlan begins to eat. Sissy reaches for the butter dish. Vanya starts with her coffee, that Sissy already sweetened to her preference.

There's a faint shadow under Sissy's eyes. Farms are not entirely silent, each having their own brand of disruptive noises (roosters, chickens, cows, storms, wind, tractors, etc.) But compared to the city? _The city in 2019?_ Vanya tried to prepare Sissy and Harlan for the future as best she could, but she never considered how they would adjust to the simpler changes. Like the lights and sounds characteristic of a sprawling and lively city.

Most mornings Sissy rises with the sun (if not before), regardless of when she falls asleep the night prior. Where once she could easily return to sleep if she wanted to, the farm’s soundtrack familiar and comforting, now she lies restless, unable to close her eyes while the city awakens outside their window.

Vanya's thoughts drift to a certain folder, thick with papers. It sits atop their coffee table in the living room beside two pens, a map, and a printed image. All symbols of the future. The future she’s writing with Sissy and Harlan. (A future she may or may not have waited until today to inform her family of...)

* * *

**3:04 AM**

"Think there's any with peaches on them?"

"Peach band-aids?"

"You know, _peaches."_

_._

"The fruit?"

"Yes, Ben, the fruit."

"Do I want to know?"

"Probably not."

.

_"They look like butts."_

_._

"Right."

.

.

.

"This is going to sting."

.

.

"Ben?"

"Hmm?"

"Think Mom has any band-aids with kiwis on them?"

.

.

 _"Your options are clear_ , _cardboard_ , _or a darker shade of cardboard."_

* * *

**9:20 AM**

Vanya's entering the living room, a few items still needing to be put away before her first lesson, when Five unexpectedly teleports in. He stands across from her, the coffee table between them. He nods in greeting, but his eyes don't stop on her for long. He scans the room, the furniture, the walls. He half steps to the right to peer into the kitchen and down the hall.

 _Usually_ , Five calls ahead. _Usually_ , Five knocks, even if only once before barging in. _Usually_ , Five will have said something by now.

"They're out," Vanya supplies upon seeing her brother's unusual behavior. If he were here to announce a _third apocalypse,_ she suspects he would have already mentioned it. Whatever brought him here can't be as terrible as another apocalypse... Right?

Five stills. He redirects his attention towards her. She meets his gaze. Before either can say something more, a knock comes from the front door, followed by the voice of one of her students.

Five glances down. A pause. "You should cancel that." Is she imagining his serious tone?

 _The lesson?_ "No, I really shouldn't."

Briefly, Five looks like he wants to argue, before he decides against wasting his time. "Fine. I'll be back." With a final indecipherable look her way, Five disappears.

In the span of Vanya's life, stranger encounters with her family members have happened, so she shakes it off as she opens the front door. It isn't until she's walking back into the living room, this time with her 9:30 AM student behind her, that she spies the folder, map, and photo still atop the coffee table, in plain sight for all to see. Oh no. _Oh no._ What are the chances Five- Oh no.

_"You should cancel that."_

He wasn't talking about the lesson.

* * *

**10:00 AM**

Luther watches from the edge of his bed as Klaus strolls in, returning one of his record players. When Klaus turns back towards him, record player now safely deposited on one of Luther's empty shelves, Luther blinks a few times, taken aback by the sight before him. Klaus did not have a black eye yesterday. And, were those band-aids on his neck?

He's rising before he knows it, a concerned query already leaving his mouth. He doesn't note how Klaus hurriedly glances to his side, doesn't stop to wonder whether Ben's here with them, doesn't think anything odd of how long it takes Klaus to respond to his question.

_When Klaus came in, had he been favoring his left leg?_

Luther's brought out of his thoughts when Klaus meets his eyes and shoots him an easy smile. Luther can't help but wonder whether Klaus thinks that's at all reassuring.

"I'm fine, big guy. You know how Five is."

Yeah. Luther does know. Which is why he also knows this situation is anything _but fine._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT IS DONE! THIS MAY BE GARBAGE, & IF SO, THEN HAPPY HALLOWEEN, READERS! HERE'S SOME GARBAGE FOR YOU!

**10:16 AM**

"What was that?"

Klaus flops atop his bed and ignores him. _Asshole_.

"Klaus," Ben steps closer, "what was that? You can't go around making up a dozen different stories. They'll realize-"

"Realize what?" Klaus interrupts. "Think about it, Ben. I told Five we were training with Vanya. _Vanya_ of all people. What's he going to do? Gripe into his coffee and judge us? He already does that."

Ben crosses his arms, not satisfied. "What about Luther? You just threw Five under the bus to him."

"First, what bus? There is no bus. Second, Luther respects Five," _or more accurately understands him… more or less,_ but Ben doesn't voice this aloud, "and third, Luther knows we were home yesterday."

 _Why does that matter?_ Then Ben realizes, "We were home."

"Ding. Ding. Ding."

"We were home, and Luther knows that. So, he'd know you were lying about training."

"Give the ghost a prize," Klaus rolls over onto his side. Ben elects to ignore his brother's unnecessary sarcasm.

Despite being against Klaus' lies, Ben can't entirely fault him in his logic so far, either. It did make sense. Give each brother a believable explanation, one they would most likely accept and not question further. But what next? What will he do when they see Allison or Vanya? Diego? Mom? Switch between stories? He's getting more frustrated thinking about what ifs. All Klaus had to do was tell the truth, but _no_ , Klaus just had to do the exact opposite.

"Just get it over with," Klaus' voice comes out muffled, but Ben still hears the words. He's smushed his face against a pillow since lying down. It's then Ben notes how he's holding himself, notices the tension in his jaw and shoulders. He uncrosses his arms, attempts to cool his expression.

"I'm not mad," Ben says as he sits on the bed. "I'm concerned," he debates whether to add anything else. _Eff it,_ he decides. "-and disappointed." He glances towards Klaus, sees as his brother pulls the pillow down his face to rest by his chest.

"You're always disappointed." Ben's relieved when he doesn't hear the self-defeated tone in Klaus' voice from a moment ago.

"Well, if you stopped being disappointing for once," Ben jokes back.

"Asshole," Klaus throws the pillow at him, a small smile tugging with itself to form or not upon Klaus' face. The pillow merely goes through him; it lands with a soft plop on the floor.

Like the mature ~~ghost~~ adult, Ben is, he sticks his tongue out at Klaus in reply.

* * *

**12:30 PM**

Luther should say something. Right? Then again, he wasn't there... He should mind his own business. Besides, Klaus didn't seem that upset about it... but... would Klaus tell him if he was? Maybe Allison or Diego? Should he ask them first? He wants to shake himself for having the same circular thoughts for the past few hours. But... now with Five in the other room... just a few steps away...

 _It's just Five,_ Luther reminds himself. Their life experiences varied greatly, but he and Five understood some things about one another that no one else did- or could. Of course, a shared rapport between them would develop from that. (Though, Luther doubts Five would admit this himself.)

Despite the years since their isolations, the effects, the feelings, the memories? They’re still there. They will always linger, regardless of how much time’s passed. And for Five? His brother’s yet to have _an entire year_ free of any impending apocalypse. While the rest of them lived in the past for a month’s time to a few years, Five simply traveled from one doomsday to the next. And Luther? Luther gets it. He does. Five’s experiences? Those would impact anyone. So, he’s not going into this like, say, _Diego_ would, with knives and accusations at a ready. Despite what his siblings may believe, Luther _has_ tried to grow some in the interpersonal conflict department over the _(his)_ last year.

While he stands outside the main room, his thoughts can’t help but drift to Ben. This would be easier if Ben were here. Ben tended to mediate when they were kids, mostly successfully, too. Vanya, occasionally, would also try to resolve a disagreement or prevent a fight, but they never did listen much to her. Well, Luther knows he didn't.

"Are you coming in?" Five calls out from his seat at the bar. "Or are you waiting to die there?" There's a slight harshness to his voice, though as Luther considers it more, his older brother also sounds distracted. Five doesn’t glance Luther’s way once, as he finally walks in and sits down, confirming his suspicion.

Luther waits, but Five continues to ignore him, his attention directed towards the coffee mug before him. (He wonders whether there’s _only_ coffee in there.) Luther would need to start the conversation... If he still wanted to... _Which_ he does _..._ He thinks _..._

Capitalizing on Five’s preoccupation, Luther attempts to casually observe his brother's appearance. He didn't know what he'd find when he finally crossed Five's path today, but the thought he'd find nothing had not occurred to him as an option. And yet, that's exactly what he finds. Nothing. It leaves him with more questions than answers.

"Five?" After a moment, Luther tries again. "Five?" He starts to audibly clear his throat before trying a third time, but his brother chooses then to acknowledge him (with a classic Five glare of annoyance, too.) Quickly, as to not lose the moment, Luther asks, “How did you sleep?” _How did you sleep? Really?_ He mentally kicks himself. _Subtle, Luther. Subtle._

Five briefly considers him before he turns back away. “I didn’t.”

“Oh.”

Five lifts his mug to take a sip. His face slightly scrunches up in disgust as he does. Luther’s expression must be clear to see as Five informs him, “It’s cold,” unprompted.

 _That’s_ _different_. Five normally doesn’t drink a cup of coffee over a long enough period of time for its temperature to drop.

“I ran into Klaus this morning,” starts Luther. Five gives a half nod, still disinterested.

“He lives here. You live here,” Five swirls the remainder of his drink around as he eyes it. As Luther continues, Five pours the rest of the cold coffee down his throat, forcing himself to drink it in one go.

“Yes, we do,” Luther wonders whether he should offer to make Five a new pot, but then again there’s no telling how many cups he’s already had today. “He said he-,” Wait, what had Klaus said? “Well, he said he spoke with you?” Right? Well, his brothers must have exchanged _some_ words sometime in the night. Now that he thinks about it, had Klaus actually told Luther _anything_ this morning?

Five turns to him then and nods. “He did, and I’m already handling it.”

 _Handling it?_ Should that be such a surprise to him? Then again, since returning from the 60’s they each were trying to do their own part in mitigating their family’s lifetime of dysfunction… Usually… Sometimes… When any of them actively thought to be conscious of that… Right. Five was handling it. His own way of saying he'd resolve whatever happened with Klaus later today.

“That’s good,” Luther smiles then. His reservations from before start to disperse. He’s not sure what Five intends, but he won’t stop him while he’s taking initiative.

“Is that all?”

Luther apparently takes too long to respond because before he can answer, Five’s already teleported away in a burst of blue.

_That went well._

* * *

**7:46 AM**

The gym’s closed today. With Al away for a family function elsewhere in the state, Diego starts his Friday morning at 6:30 AM sharp, with a jog around the block, followed by some time on one of the punching bags. As eight o’clock draws nearer, he unwraps his hands, and starts on the day’s sweeping.

Today’s paper should be dropped off in half an hour or so. The recent classifieds have been less than helpful, so he wonders whether today will be any different. With Reginald’s will still in probate and a decline in professional opportunities to brawl reaching him, Diego’s spent the last few weeks scanning job ads. Unsuccessfully.

As usual, at the thought of his father’s passing, his mind drifts to Eudora. Eudora, who he thought was dead. For months, granted most of which he was in the past for, he thought she’d died, alone in that motel room. Only to learn from Beaman upon his return to 2019 that her ‘death’ had been an intentional cover by the department at the time. The chaotic scene he came across that night… it still plays sometimes in his mind. Rodriguez had threatened him with arrest then and there if he crossed the tape. He doesn’t hold anything against Beaman or Rodriguez, or anyone else who followed orders then and kept him in the dark. After all... he'd been a suspect.

With Hazel giving Five his and Cha-Cha’s guns and Eudora eventually waking up in the hospital, Diego was cleared relatively quickly. Within the first few days back from the 60’s Diego visited the hospital as often as possible. It took Eudora ten minutes alone with him to know something was off. She shared with him what he missed with her and the investigation, and he shared- a lot of overdue details about him and his family. In addition, he told her about both prevented apocalypses and his family’s displacement across the early 60’s. The nurses began to suspect he was her boyfriend or something with how long he stayed and how often he visited.

Diego returns the broom to the storage closet, debates whether to mop now or later. His decision’s made for him when his stomach rumbles.

* * *

**8:52 AM**

_"I'm attending the gallery today. Sandwiches are in the refrigerator for lunch. I will be_ _home at 16:00. –Mom x"_

Diego places the note back on the counter. He wonders whether she’ll return home with a new portrait. Or two. Or three.

He swipes two turkey sandwiches from the fridge before leaving the kitchen. He passes Pogo on his way out of the academy, not wanting to stay long enough for one of his brothers to slow him down. They’ll see one another at dinner tonight, anyways. He thinks Allison asked for tonight’s family dinner, but maybe Vanya had? Who knows?

He makes it to his car in the alley without interruption, half a sandwich already stuffed in his mouth. If there is one thing in this world he can always count on it is Mom’s food: delicious, available, and free.

* * *

**11:21 AM**

“I can’t.”

“Come on. Can’t or won’t?”

Last week Eudora was cleared to return to work- desk work. He knows she’s not nearly as busy as she was before getting shot. What would a quick lunch break hurt?

She closes the folder before her, then slides it into one of her desk drawers. “ _Can’t_. I already have a date.”

“With who?” _Sure_ , he thinks, he can stay long enough to meet her ‘date.’ Wait. _Wait-_ “ _I_ never said this was a date, _Patch.”_ Diego adds, clarifying.

”You didn’t have to. I know you.”

He crosses his arms, gaze sharper, more alert. “Who is the poor fool?”

Eudora rolls her eyes. “Mature, Diego. Classic, too.”

He stays quiet, waits. He'll find out one way or another.

”You don’t have a say in who I lunch with.”

"But-"

She shakes her head, and he can gather the conversation is over. "But nothing. I'll catch you another time, alright?" It's phrased as a question, but Diego knows there’s no changing her mind. Eudora's done talking. ~~_And done with you._~~

"Yeah," He stands, deliberately looks away from her, zips his jacket back up. ~~Maybe a little too forcefully.~~ "See you."

* * *

**12:06 PM**

The cafe's busy, but they manage to find an empty table on the second floor.

"I'm curious."

"Hmm?"

Eudora tilts her head, casts her gaze towards the briefcase. "Does that actually-"

"-work?"

Eudora nods. She knows the answer, and yet...

Her companion answers with a mischievous grin. "I can show you. After our date."

Earlier? At the precinct? Eudora had joked when she called this a date, but now... the idea didn't sound too bad.

* * *

**1:19 PM**

He finds himself back at the academy. Mom doesn't greet him, so he figures she's still out. No sight of Five or Luther. Diego makes his way to one of the academy's gyms, the urge to hit something growing stronger each minute.

He throws his jacket across the room, takes off his shirt and socks and shoes, too.

He starts on one of the new punching bags Luther purchased after the 60's. It's sturdy, unused. Tall enough for kicks and punches.

They weren't together. Aren't together. Haven't been for years now. If Eudora wants to date other men, that is her business. That is her business. He knows that. He knows that.

He loses track of how long he's been there, punches the bag until his knuckles begin to sting.

They were working their shit out. Weren't they? Civil conversation, personal revelations. Long visits in her hospital room. Those meant something. They meant something to _him_.

Eventually, Eudora's not the only one going through his thoughts. Lila weasels her way to the forefront, too. And then- he's just emotion. Anger. Envy. Regret. Failure. All of his failures and every missed chance.

He doesn't know what he's feeling. What he's thinking. He doesn't want to. Not when it concerns them. ~~Concerns his heart.~~

He punches past the point of stinging, doesn't stop when the first knuckle begins to bleed, nor when the skin of another splits open, too.

And then-

"Diego! My favorite sibling!"

Diego moves to jab forward, but at Klaus' unexpected greeting, he missteps, completely missing the bag and nearly tumbling forward. "What the hell, Klaus?" He steadies himself and turns towards his brother, voice harsher than necessary. Then he _sees_ him. _"What the hell, Klaus?"_

"What?" Klaus feigns ignorance.

"What? You know what," Diego gestures towards his face. "Who did you piss off this time?"

Klaus begins to frown at that, but his expression quickly goes back to one of casual nonchalance. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yeah, you do." Diego walks over to his clothes. He should get back to Al's soon. Shower off.

Klaus hums for a moment before replying. "Would you believe me if I said Allison rumored me to punch myself?"

"Ha ha. Ass." Diego pulls his shirt down, reaches for his jacket next. "And, _no_ , I wouldn't."

Klaus shrugs. "Worth a shot." By the way his brother says it, Diego wonders whether Klaus' words are meant for him or for Ben.

"Fine, don't tell me," Diego bites, "but don't come running to me when Luther and Five throw you out." ~~_Like Eudora. Like Lila._~~

.

.

.

In hindsight, Diego realizes that was uncalled for. He realizes he may have still been _a bit_ of a mess, even if he didn't want to take it out on the bag anymore. (He’s always been good at verbal punches, too.)

He was projecting. He knows that. _Later._ In the moment... Diego doesn't catch the surprised hurt that flashes across Klaus' face after his words. He doesn't notice the shift in mood, either.

_"Screw you."_

With that, Klaus turns around and leaves.

It's hours later when Diego realizes he never learned why Klaus walked in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos & Comments are appreciated if you feel moved to leave one or both!


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